(Sera.)

Consciousness began to bleed its way into my mind when the wind started to heave, lashing strands of my salty, damp hair against my cheeks.

Damp.

I opened my eyes with a jolt, though I immediately regretted it when the cold glare of sunlight singed my vision. I clenched my eyes shut, rolling over, blue hues swimming across the back of my eyelids. I was lying on a wooden surface. Floor? No, it was slanted, curved upwards on both sides.

I blinked again, adjusting to the light.

Pushing myself up, my gaze fixing on a small video camera drilled into the lip of the vessel, its lens trained on me. Beyond that was ocean. Dull, grey ocean that stretched past the bank of fog. And at that moment, all I could do was remain, numbness seeping down my throat, traveling into my nervous system. The small boat rocked gently in the choppy water, mirroring the blossoming panic that was tumbling against my brain.

Eurus.

Bringing my hand up to my neck, I felt around for a pinprick scab, anything to confirm that I hadn't hallucinated Tim sedating me. I knew that Eurus knew people, the way they ticked. The doctors preceding me served as plain evidence, but I never imagined... This. An opportunity to orchestrate such a elaborate scheme should have been out of the question for a prisoner as heavily guarded as Eurus Holmes. But it couldn't have been anyone else.

I ran a hand through my hair, tangles catching my fingers as the stubborn strands were wrenched from the follicles.

She'd said something about stress before. And I'd said something back, what did I say? 'Situational pressures and tensions', I think. The stress of a physical setting... she was being clever. Not very original, but incredibly effective. If it hadn't been me she was using as her test subject, I might have appreciated the cleanliness of it further, but any rationality was now leaving me at an alarmingly steady rate.

The camera at the farther end of the boat, obviously waterproof, was a particularly grim flair. She'd mentioned stress. And now I was filling the role of  lab rat. What an ironic role reversal.

There were no chains slung over the side of the boat, and my stomach lurched at the realization. I leaned over the edge, swinging my legs around and crashing into the dark water. Hope was bad enough, but desperate hope was far worse. If there was an anchor attached to the bottom of the boat, it would mean I was close to land. If not, then I'd ultimately be screwed.

I reached under, my fingertips brushing the bottom of the tiny rowboat, which was slick with algae. Nothing.

I heaved myself back into the vessel with difficulty, nearly capsizing it. Right. So that was a smart move. Isn't it every woman's dream to spend a night soaked with sea water in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

I huddled into the side of the boat, removing my dripping clothes in an attempt to avoid hypothermia, and laying them flat against the bottom.

Eurus probably wouldn't go so far as to leave me here indefinitely, but I wouldn't put a few days past her.

I surveyed the small vessel, my search no longer specific. At this point, anything would do. It was completely bare. The workmanship of the actual structure wasn't great: there were a few blooms of rot marking the wood, but it was stable enough so as not to break apart. The camera was the only thing there, steadily blinking its red eye.

I scooted over, leaning out of the boat to see the model number on the back of the device. A '2010 Cam.ly IP camera', according to the inscription. And, knowing Eurus, most likely a state-of-the-art device capable of filming steadily for long stretches of time. God knows where she's getting her funding.

I reached over to retrieve my wet shirt, held up two fingers to the camera, then draped the fabric over the lens. At this point, I'd take any scrap of control I could get.

At least the camera gave me a time frame.

A human body can go up to three weeks without food, but water's a different matter. The absolute maximum is about a week, but even that, is generous. I'd give myself a good three or four days, depending on the weather. If the sky stayed cloudy, that would give me a longer frame of survival, but at this point, I wasn't sure that would be a good thing.

Eurus wouldn't let me die, that would be far too anticlimactic for her. Even with the little time I'd spent with her, it was clear she lived for theatrics. Prolonging the time spent out here was not in my best interest and definitely not worth it. I'd just have to hurry up and pass out quickly.

And so I waited. Waited for my body to shut down. Waited for its self-destruction to be my saving grace.

• • •

On the first day, it was relatively simple. Apart from the sickening thirst that had set in.

But it was around the second night when my nervous system began to turn against itself, and I found myself shivering uncontrollably, even when the sun rose again. No matter the temperature, the warmth never seemed to fully seep into my bones: the chill was constantly biting at my reserves.

I forced my mind to remain blank, but the external pressures were beginning to break through the fissures in my reserve. She was clever in her execution: front row seats to see how a one's mind could destroy itself, all on it's own. Eurus Holmes was cutting off my most basic of human functions, reverting me to a primal state.

The isolation, metaphorical and otherwise, targeted one's instinct to speak, communicate, and interact.
And of course, all desolation was magnified when the body was deprived of food and water.

On the third day, I found myself rocking back and forth, but I don't think it was because of the waves lapping against the side of the boat.

There were moments when my vision fogged over and those were the times that scared me the most.

I had become stiff, aching all over and the shivering hadn't stopped, but moving was out of the question. At this point my body was too weak to allow it.
Any sleep I had was fitful, and dreams painted with my mother's face melted and stewed in my mind.

Every now and then I would surprise myself when I started to hum.

On the fourth day, thoughts began to come uninvited. They say the waiting is the worst part, and they're right. The pain was in the fact that nothing was happening: that the seconds were ticking by slowly and nothing was happening.

My fingertips wandered to the bone of my eye cavity every couple minutes, even though each time felt the same. They were sunken.

I had started to chew on my bottom lip, and every now and then, a nervous tick would cause my muscles to spasm. My lips became raw, and the metallic taste of blood became a familiar one.

It was the morning of the fifth day when the helicopter arrived.

A woman had to climb down the rope ladder to retrieve me.

Inside the helicopter sat Eurus, her eyes gleaming. She looked like a clinical monarch, clad in royal, sterile robes. My mind buzzed and hummed, the haze clouding my brain as she kneeled in front of me.

"Don't cry Sera, darling. See, quiet, you'll be back in no time," Eurus said, her voice breathless and her eyes bright as she lifted me tenderly, into an embrace. "Then, then I can help you."

I hadn't realized I was crying, I couldn't feel any tears, and I briefly wondered if she was lying to me. But as I let Eurus caress my hair, I smiled. My voice and lips cracked from disuse.

"You're late."